Fiction Books

FIRST EVENING. How it did rain, to be sure! Up the long street, and down the long street nothing was to be seen but large mud puddles, while the gutter ran like a little river, and gushed with a loud sound into the sewer mouth. That was a rain indeed! but in the warm rooms it was comfortable enough. Books and pretty pictures lined the walls on all sides but one, where the large window was, the recess... more...

CHAPTER I He was eight years old, and his name was Geoffry. But everyone called him Jeff. The gentle lady who was his mother had no other children, and she loved him more than words can say; not because he was a good or pretty child—for he was neither—but because he was her one little child. Jeff had big wide-awake, brown eyes, that seemed as if they never could look sleepy. His hair was yellow,... more...

Letter XVI To the same O my lost child! In thy humiliations at this moment I can sympathize. The shame that must follow the detection of it is more within my thoughts at present than the negligence or infatuation that occasioned thy faults. I know all. Thy intended husband knew it all. It was from him that the horrible tidings of thy unfaithfulness to marriage-vows first came. He visited this city on... more...

In the dusk of a spring evening, Helen Caniper walked on the long road from the town. Making nothing of the laden basket she carried, she went quickly until she drew level with the high fir-wood which stood like a barrier against any encroachment on the moor, then she looked back and saw lights darting out to mark the streets she had left behind, as though a fairy hand illuminated a giant... more...

In the United States of America there was, in the early decades of this century, a very widely spread excitement of a religious sort. Except in the few long-settled portions of the eastern coast, the people were scattered over an untried country; means of travel were slow; news from a distance was scarce; new heavens and a new earth surrounded the settlers. In the veins of many of them ran the blood of... more...

KILLYKINICK. I.—The “Left Overs.” It was the week after Commencement. The corridors, class-rooms, and study hall of Saint Andrew’s stretched in dim, silent vistas; over the tennis court and the playground there brooded a dead calm; the field, scene of so many strenuous struggles, lay bare and still in the summer sunlight; the quadrangle, that so lately had rung to parting cheer and “yell,”... more...

THE LITTLE IRON SOLDIER OR, WHAT AMINADAB IVISON DREAMED ABOUT. AMINADAB IVISON started up in his bed. The great clock at the head of the staircase, an old and respected heirloom of the family, struck one. "Ah," said he, heaving up a great sigh from the depths of his inner man,"I've had a tried time of it." "And so have I," said the wife. "Thee's been kicking and... more...

1. Victorious is the garland-wearing foster-son of Nanda,—the protector of his devotees,—the destroyer of the cruel king,— dark-blue like the delicate tamâla blossoms,—formidable with his many outspread rays,—mighty with all his attendant powers, [Footnote: The Bengali translation explains these as the internal powers (__antara"ngâ__) Hlâdinî, etc., and the external... more...

W.J. TURNER ROMANCE When I was but thirteen or so  I went into a golden land,Chimborazo, Cotopaxi  Took me by the hand. My father died, my brother too,  They passed like fleeting dreams,I stood where Popocatapetl  In the sunlight gleams. I dimly heard the master's voice  And boys far-off at play,Chimborazo, Cotopaxi  Had stolen me away. I walked in a great golden dream  To and fro... more...

THE HOUSE OF PRIDE Percival Ford wondered why he had come.  He did not dance.  He did not care much for army people.  Yet he knew them all—gliding and revolving there on the broad lanai of the Seaside, the officers in their fresh-starched uniforms of white, the civilians in white and black, and the women bare of shoulders and arms.  After two years in Honolulu the Twentieth was departing to its... more...